Good Ol' Winchester Charm
by Hydromagnetism
Summary: Twoshot. We've all seen how charming Dean can be. But what happens when a thirteen-year-old Sam wants to live up to his brother's reputation?
1. That Winchester Charm

Hey, hey, hey :D So, I don't really know what possessed me to write like this—as with most of my stories. But, yeah. Really, who can resist Dean's charm? Seriously. But, yeah. Thanks for reading :) And it would be awesome if you could review me, even just to tell me what you thought. Reviews make me happy ;)

**Disclaimer**: Really? Again? Okay, here goes. I don't own Supernatural. Seriously. If I did, there wouldn't be a plot... unless you count Jensen running around with his shirt off for four seasons. I thought not.

* * *

Sam Winchester couldn't believe what he was seeing. Here they were, at the skating rink—a special treat for Sam's thirteenth birthday—and, not five minutes into their session, his older brother, Dean, had already started making "friends".

"Dean!" he said loudly, skating unsteadily towards his brother, his hand hovering close to the metal rail fixed to the barrier surrounding the rink. "_Help _me, goddammit!"

"Not now, Sammy!" Dean hissed out of the corner of his mouth, eyes flickering between his graceless brother and a tall, giggling blonde he was now closing in on.

"It's Sam!" he snapped, but to no avail. Dean was no longer listening—he was chatting up the blonde. Sam sighed. Even on his _birthday_, Dean still refused to let his love of women subside. Not even for one freakin' afternoon. Sam had to hand it to him—some of the cheesy pick-up lines he used on his targets certainly would have made him snort with laughter if anyone else used them.

"Did it hurt?" Dean asked, leaning in towards the pretty girl, feigning interest. Sam was surprised Dean hadn't fallen over by this point—he was leaning in closer and closer, and if it were Sam, he certainly would have overbalanced by now.

"Did what hurt?" the blonde replied, looking a little confused.

"When you fell down from heaven," Dean grinned. Sam's eye involuntarily twitched. Again, only Dean could pull off such corny lines. The girl blushed a little and giggled again.

"You're funny," she said, leaning in as well so her shirt slid down the tiniest inch. "What's your name?"

"Dean," he said, winking. "Would you like to do a round with me? Around the rink, I mean."

She giggled, leaning forward even further. "Sure," she said breathily. "My name's Candy, by the way."

Sam snorted. _Candy. _"Lovely name." Dean flashed his pearly whites and snaked his arm around Candy's waist. "Dean and Candy. What a great pairing," Dean said as they took off around the rink, his arm still firmly gripping her waist. Sam wondered how he wasn't crashing right now.

_Who cares? _He thought. _It's Dean. If he can act like the world's biggest douche and still get the girl, I doubt he'll be thwarted by ice._

Sam's thoughts were stopped in his tracks as he spotted Candy's friends, standing where she had just been, talking and giggling and, well, looking hot. Sam did his best to look graceful as he slid over to the group. He skidded to a stop next to the nearest girl—a brunette, wearing a short dress. She paused as he tried to steady himself. "Can I help you?"

"Uh..." Sam racked his brain for the first thing he could think of. _Be cool, Sam. Play it like Dean does and you'll score the hot chick. _"There's something wrong with my cell phone."

The brunette raised her eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"Your—uh, your number isn't in it." _Way to look like a tool, moron._

The girl snorted. "Nice, very nice," she giggled. "How old are? Ten?"

"What? No! I'm thir—fifteen," Sam lied.

"Uh huh. Sure. Hey, I see a couple of six-year-olds over there. Why don't you go and try out your _charm _on them?" The girl sniggered and skated away with her friends.

Dean grinned as he and Candy flew past him. Sam skated dejectedly to the other side of the rink and onto the carpet, where he sat down at his and Dean's booth. Candy and Dean joined him about five minutes later.

"Cake time!" Dean grinned. He plopped a large ice-cream cake on the table and sat down opposite to Sam, Candy squeezing in next to him.

"Oops," she giggled as she dipped her elbow in the top of the cake.

"Here, let me fix that," Dean chuckled. He scraped the offending ice-cream off Candy's tanned elbow and stuck his finger in Candy's mouth. Sam resisted the urge to vomit.

"Here you go, birthday boy," Dean grinned, plopping a large piece of cake on Sam's plate. "Eat up!"

"I'm not hungry," Sam muttered, not exactly keen to eat, mainly because of the gross PDA he had just seen, but also because of the fact that he wasn't exactly hellbent on tasting Candy's elbow.

"Your loss," Dean shrugged and continued to stick his finger in the cake and feed Candy. Sam sighed and shook his head.

* * *

"So, did you have fun?" Dean said as they walked out to the Impala, a serene look on his face and Candy's number in hand.

"How do you do it?" Sam muttered suddenly.

"Do what, lil' bro?"

"Get all the girls," Sam muttered dejectedly.

"Aw!" Dean laughed, punching Sam in the arm. "Don't worry, you'll start gettin' the chicks too, once you grow a couple inches and lose the baby fat."

"Good to know," Sam said, rolling his eyes. Next year, they were _definitely _skipping the skating rink. In fact, they were skipping anywhere that girls liked to go.

In fact, Sam was just gonna skip the parties until he had grown up enough to be as big of a tool as Dean...


	2. Happy Proper Birthday, Sammy

Okay, so I realize I kind of made Dean out to be a huge douche, not to mention out of character. I'm really sorry, I swear I didn't mean to. Hopefully this will make up for it. Thanks to everyone for the awesome feedback.

**Disclaimer**: I own Supernatural. I also own Microsoft... just kidding.

* * *

"Hey, boys," John Winchester said as his two sons walked in. He frowned—despite the fact that it was Sam's birthday, he looked miserable.

"Hey, Dad," they said in unison; Dean's tone was bright and cheery while Sam's was bleak.

"How was skating?" he asked. Sam just rolled his eyes, but Dean grinned.

"It was crappy," Sam sighed. "I'm going to wash up and go to bed. 'Night."

"'Night, kiddo," John said, frowning a little. "Happy birthday."

"Thanks, Dad," Sam replied sadly as he walked out of the room.

"Dean, why is your brother so upset?" he asked as soon as he heard the water turn on. He had no idea what was causing his youngest to be so sad—especially on his birthday—but he sure didn't like it.

Dean's face went red, and his eyes averted to the ground as he spoke. "Well, uh, at the rink, there was this, um, girl, and I went and talked to her..."

John groaned. _A girl, of course, _he thought to himself. Ever since Dean had turned fifteen, he had been obsessed with anything that looked or smelled like a woman. "And totally ignored your brother? On his _birthday_?"

Dean shrunk into the couch even more. "Yeah," he muttered guiltily.

John sighed. "Go to bed, Dean."

"Yes, sir."

Dean's feet dragged as he headed to the tiny bedroom that he and his brother shared. He pushed the door open and guilt overtook him even more as he saw his little brother lying on his bed, back facing Dean's bed.

He pulled his pajamas on and climbed into bed, and he heard Sam huff a little in recognition of his brother's presence. _Come on, just do it,_ he said, mentally scolding himself. _It's now or never. Stop being such an idiot._

"Sammy?"

He took Sam's small, annoyed grunt as permission to keep talking.

"I'm sorry," Dean continued. _Man, this would be so much easier if the damn kid would just turn around. _"I was an idiot, Sam. I let you down. I shouldn't have treated you like that on any day, and especially not your birthday."

"Damn right," Sam mumbled.

"Hey, how about I take you back to the rink tomorrow? I'll make it up to you."

"Whatever," was Sam's only response. Dean sighed.

"'Kay. 'Night, Sammy."

No response came, but when Sam rolled over, Dean swore he saw him smile the tiniest bit.

* * *

"Let's do this," Dean said, tying his skate's laces and standing up. He watched as his brother did the same, only much unsteadier.

"Need some help?" he asked, raising his eyebrows as Sam carefully took steps towards the rink. Sam rolled his eyes, but muttered affirmative.

"Grab my hand," Dean said, sticking out his left hand. Sam raised his eyebrow.

"Dude, I'm thirteen."

"And I'm seventeen. How do you think it'll look when people see _me _skating around a freakin' rollerskating rink holding another dude's hand? Just do it, Sam."

Sam sighed, shaking his head slightly as he grasped Dean's hand. "All good?" Dean asked. Sam nodded.

They set off around the rink at a slow skate, but were almost immediately stopped by a girl stopping in front of them. Candy.

"Hey, Dean," Candy said, hands planted on hips. "So, you didn't call me last night. What was that all about?"

Dean sighed. "I was kinda busy celebrating my brother's birthday."

"That's a crap excuse. Why didn't you call me?" Candy persisted.

"Excuse me? It's a crap excuse?" Dean's eyebrows creased together.

"Yeah. You should have called me."

Sam gripped Dean's hand tighter, and Dean looked down at his lanky brother, nodding and then turning back to Candy.

"Well, I'm sorry, I didn't. I was celebrating my brother's birthday, and that's what I'm doing now, to make up for my stupid actions yesterday. So, if you don't mind, get out of the way so my brother and I can skate."

A look of contempt spread over her features. "You just lost the best thing to ever happen to you," she said loudly, and skated away angrily.

"Actually, I didn't. The best thing that ever happened to me is holding my hand!" Dean shouted after her. Candy snorted.

"Yeah, have fun, loser," she shouted.

"I most certainly will," Dean said, grinning. "Come on, Sammy. Let's go."

As they completed their lap around the rink, Sam started to say something. "Dean, thanks. You shouldn't have done that for—"

"No chick flick moments," Dean said firmly, as they skated out of the rink, sat down and untied their skates.

"Yeah, whatever," Sam muttered.

As they walked out to the car, Dean's voice cut into the silence. "By the way, I should have done that for you. I would take you over some hot idiot like her any day."

Sam smiled. "Thanks, Dean."

"No problem, little bro."

As the Impala roared to life, Dean hesitated before saying, "Ah, happy birthday, Sammy. For real this time."


End file.
